Scars of Fannysmackin'
by ncis-lady
Summary: Wounds can be healed, but what if the scars run deeper? Greg has to learn that he's got friends who will be there for him whatever has happened. And someone in particular would give everything to bring the sparkling back into his eyes.Sandle!
1. Chapter 1

Okay so this is my very first CSI FF in here. It takes place right after Fannysmackin', one of my favourite episodes. It hasn't been shown here in Germany yet so I don't know what will happen in the following episodes. This is a sequel I made up, no spoilers.

I'm not a native speaker so please feel free to correct me.

I love to get feedback, I'd really appreciate a few lines!

Hope I'll be able to update soon, but as there's also a German ff in progress I'd need the day to have 36 h to manage it all.

So long, hope you'll like it.

Yours, Ncis-Lady

* * *

**Scars of Fannysmackin'**

"_You should process the scene now, me later."_

"_I came here for you, Greg."  
_

* * *

"_I'm sick of these punks, man, I'm serious, I'm sick of it!"_

"_Then you're in the wrong town."_

"_Maybe."_

* * *

"Hey Sara." 

"The sidle scent again?", she asked in order to relieve the tension.

"Fishing for compliments, hm?", Greg answered through gritted teeth, his eyes closed.

Sara smiled and tried not to look at his bruised face. "No need to, thanks."

"Believe it or not, but I can see you perfectly." As if he wanted to prove it, the young man liftet his eyelids a bit. "That is – I can see you. Forget the perfectly."

"Still good enough." She felt her lower lip begin to tremble. Why the hell did her voice sound so shaky?

For a moment neither of them spoke, they were only looking at each other, lost in thoughts. Finally Greg cleared his throat and nodded towards the edge of his bed.

"You can sit down if you want to."

"Thanks."

Slowly, Sara approached the bed with the white sheets and sat down carefully, being aware of Greg wincing as the vibration made his body ache.

She looked down at him, scanning the bandage around his head and the plastered hand which rested motionless on the blanket.

"Looks scary, doesn't it?", Greg grinned wryly.

Yes, he did. But it wasn't scaring her as much as it hurt her seeing him lying there.

Her hands were like ice and she shivered.

"Freezing?"

"No."

Was it a lie? Maybe.

* * *

"Nick." 

The dark-haired man stopped dead on the floor, then turned round.

"Grissom."

Gil smiled a little.

"Haven't I had this sort of conversation before?"

Nick gave him an enquiring look and his boss explained how he had visited Greg in hospital.

His younger teammate cast his eyes down.

"Ya think he'll be alright soon?"

Grissom nodded.

"I'm sure he will. He's getting medical treatment and he'll have to stay in hospital for a few days, but he'll be fine."

There was something in his eyes, though, that Nick knew boded ill.

"What's up, Grissom?"

The older man sighed quietly.

"We have to talk, Nick. Now."

"About what?", Nick asked although he guessed he knew the answer already.

"Follow me", Grissom said, walking towards his office.

Taking a deep breath, he followed him.

The door creaked a little as Grissom opened it.

"Sit down", he ordered, pointing at a wooden chair. Looking at his colleague, he recognized the anxiety reflected by his eyes. "I assume you know what I want to talk about."

Nick shrugged, avoiding Grissom's look.

"What happened at the scene?"

"You know what happened."

"I need to hear it from you."

Nick leant back, wiping his face once, then staring straight at his superior.

"He provoked, I reacted. That's all."

Grissom leant forward, throwing a serious look at his colleague.

"No, that's not all, Nick, and you know that."

"But…"

"There is no 'but', Nick! You just can't hit someone when you're on duty, no matter how much he provoked. It's your job to stay calm, okay?"

Nick didn't even notice himself clenching his fists so much that they got white. All he saw was Grissom's eyes set onto him.

He looked straight at him, slightly confused by the mild expression on his face.

"My job. Okay. So it's my fuckin' job to protect those blokes, is that what you're tellin' me, Grissom?"

"They weren't doing anything wrong, Nick."

"They nearly killed him!" The words came out of his mouth in such an aggressive way he'd never heard himself shouting before, then his voice broke. "They nearly killed him…"

* * *

"I killed him." 

His voice was barely audible to Sara, but the words hit her like a thunderstorm. She turned her face towards Greg's, trying to get eye contact, but he wouldn't look at her. He seemed to be just too fascinated by the white blanket that covered his slender body.

She choke hard, trying to find the right words, knowing she would fail.

"You didn't, Greg. You didn't kill him." Even for herself the sentences sounded riddiculous.

"I accelerated. I looked into his eyes, and pushed the pedal down. Maybe…"

"You didn't kill him, Greg."

Her words came out just as quietly as his, but underneath she was screaming, trying to reach him out there whereever he was, trying desparately to cross the distance that was suddenly seperating them.

Slowly Greg lifted his head, and all Sara could see were his eyes. The sparkling they used to hold was gone, replaced by a deep, black sea. They looked defiant, hurt, reflecting nothing but the bare soul of the man she loved with all her heart.

"He died because of me."

His voice sounded so strange, so unlike him, that Sara had shivers down her spine.

What was she supposed to say? He wouldn't listen anyway. All her words were useless to him, he didn't need them, but what he needed instead she couldn't tell, let alone give.

"Sara."

She looked at him, but he avoided her gaze. Again his focus was on the white blanket.

"Leave. Please."

"What?"

Sara gave him a startled look, trying to recapture what he had just said. She bit her lower lip, trying in vain to make the words unheard, unsaid. All she received was a sharp pain that moistered her eyes. It had to be the pain, she told, nothing but the pain. She'd never cry in front in front of him.

"Go, Sara."

She knew she was lying to herself.

She stood up, for a moment shaking due to the dizziness that that overcame her, looking down at the young man whose eyes were caught by something much too far away for her to see it.

"Okay. If you want me to, I'll go. But remember that if you need me to, I'll come here for you."

Sara turned round and headed for the door without looking back. Her footsteps echoed in the spartanic room. Like morse signals, sent out in despair for rescue to whoever would hear them, three short, three long, three short. Signals of a human being.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Well the second chapter is up. It's a bit shorter than the previous but I hope you still like it. 

Yours, Ncis-Lady

* * *

The door closed with a bang, and for a few seconds that seemed like eternity to him, Greg just watched the spot beside his bed where Sara had sat. 

He had sent her away, had pushed her away and had hurt both of them doing so.

Yes, it hurt. The incruciating pain he felt was beyond anything he'd ever felt before, so much more intense than even the hardest punch he had received lying on the cold, dark ground wishing to lose consciousness.

Why had he done this to her, to him? Hadn't he been so glad to see her, hadn't he smiled, hadn't he forgotten all the pain he was in the moment she had stroked his hair? He definitely had. When he had talked to her, aching all over, not even seeing her but just hearing her soft voice, she had been like an angel, sent from Heaven for his rescue. It had been a subliminal emotion, though, the realization had come so much later. And along with it, the fear had begun to crawl underneath his skin right into his heart. She knew what he had done. And how could a murderer and an angel look into each others eyes without destroying themselves or each other?

It was her eyes hat had always been like portals to another world for him, a world he had been longing to discover. Now he had shut this door and had thrown the keys into the ocean.

A single tear made its way down his bruised cheek, resting for a while at the corner of his mouth, tracing further down his trembling chin.

His silent scream remained unheard.

* * *

Nick closed his eyes for a split second, then opened them again. Grissom was watching him, his eyes being filled with emotion. And finally Nick understood that it wasn't only him who was impacted by what had happened. 

"Sorry, Gris", he muttered. "Didn't mean to be so…"

"It's okay", the older man replied. "I guess I would've reacted the same way, though." He hesitated. "It was wrong anyway."

"I know", Nick sighed. "But I was just… dunno."

"Feeling guilty?"

Grissom's voice was slightly hoarse, and Nick looked at him, rather surprised.

"How…"

"…do I know that? Cause I know that feeling, Nick. I know it too damned well."

"But…", the young man began, then hushed. There was so much he wanted to say and so little he actually could. He scanned the room he was sitting in as if seeing it for the very first time. Shelves with books, filled with too much ever to be known; old folders with information on cases solved so long ago; memories hidden between thousands of pages and millions of letters. And yet far from being able to tell a man's life.

Nick cleared his throat, being not quite sure whether or not Grissom expected him to say something.

"I… I'll go to the hospital… alright?", he asked. "I guess Sara might still be there."

Gil nodded once, it was only a short movement, but Nick knew that his friend had forgiven him.

"You wanna join me?"

"I've already seen him", Grissom said. "But you just go. He needs some guys around, I guess…"

"Okay", Nick smiled. He stood up, headed towards the door, but before leaving the room he turned round.

"Grissom?"

The grey-haired man looked up, his eyes barely visible behind his glasses.

"Grissom, whatever… whatever it is you're feeling guilty of…" He hesitated. "You don't have to."

And without waiting for a reply he finally left the office.

Grissom stared at the closed door, sighing.

"But I do, Nick. I do."

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys, I know I've waited far too long to update, but I suffered from writer's block, it was hell! But now I think I might be able to continue working on this one. So I just hope there's still someone out there who'd like to read it. Although this here is quite short...

* * *

Where the hell was she running to? Sara couldn't tell, all she knew was that she was freezing. Her fingers were like ice, sending shivers all over her body, and she wasn't quite sure what the reason was. A woman crossed the hallway, wearing only a shirt, and somewhere in the very back of her head Sara even remembered herself being dressed up like this. It couldn't be so long ago, she thought, but it felt like it had happened in another time.  
The touch of a hand made her stop and turn round. It took a moment to recognize the older man with the grey eyes and bald head.

"Dr. Ryan."

He looked at her anxiously.

"Are you okay, Miss…"

"Sidle." Sara forced herself to smile. "Yes, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?", the doctor asked with a concerned look. "You don't look well, Miss Sidle, to be honest."

She sighed quietly.

"There's no need to worry, really. I guess I just need some coffee, that's all."

Dr. Ryan shrugged, seeming to fight an inner battle about whether or not letting this young and obviously shaken woman alone.

"Miss Sidle, if there's anything you need just let me know, okay? And don't worry about your friend, he'll be okay soon."

Sara nodded slightly, and followed the man with her eyes, inhaling deeply.  
Yes, Greg would be alright. He would leave the hospital, come back to work, just be there like he'd always been.  
Wouldn't he?  
And she wondered when she would finally stop lying to herself.

* * *

Grissom watched the door close, stared at it for a while, then blinked twice. He buried his face in his hands, feeling his rough skin beneath his palms and wondered what it was that made him feel so old.

'You _are_ getting old, Gil!', he reminded himself with a sad grin. 'You really are.'

But what was it that defined this invisible barrier between young and old? Could you even draw a line between these two stages of life? But if you couldn't, how would this strange phase in between be called? That was one of the questions his books and his guts would never answer.  
Nick's words still echoed inside his head.

"_Whatever it is you're feeling guilty of… you don't have to."_

It was an absolution and still he felt like he didn't deserve it.  
Did Nick even know that he, Grissom, hadn't forgotten about what had happened so long ago? Nick hadn't forgotten, he knew that for sure, he only had to watch him at work and see him shudder whenever he had to go into dark, small rooms. He had recovered soon but something had remained, hidden beneath the surface, invisible for anyone else to see.But Grissom always saw it, and it hurt.

Despite the fact that his team had grown up within the years, he still felt responsible for everyone of them. Catherine and Sara, Nick and Warrick, Sofia and Greg – they made their ways, they did it well, but just like a father watched his children grow up without wanting to let them go, he wasn't able to let go yet.  
When he had rescued Nick from his grave, he had made a vow to never let it come to this again. He had sworn it, and he had painfully failed.  
He remembered Greg's look when he had told him to go alone, the anticipation sparkling in his eyes – and only a few hours later he had seen him again, reflecting a kind of despair he'd never seen before in his youngest team member.  
And suddenly it had hurt again.  
Whatever Nick had told him – he still felt guilty.


	4. Chapter 4

**Anyone's still reading it? I hope so... I'd be glad about some feedback!**

* * *

White. The walls were a plain white, and it sucked. He still couldn't see clearly, though, but staring at those brightly shining walls just drove him mad.

Of course he could have closed his eyes, he had tried, but it had made things even worse. The blurred white had been replaced by dark shadows, that came nearer and nearer the more he held his eyes shut, so he had given up on that soon.

He wasn't sure yet whether or not he should be glad about the pain relievers the nurse had given him. It had eased the aching of his head and he didn't even feel his hand hurting anymore, so it might be good. But if it was good, why did some part of him wish he'd still feel the pain instead of feeling so totally numb?

Greg had never thought he could feel like this. Despite all he had experienced in his job, having seen things most people couldn't even imagine, he'd always been able to somehow cast all evil away from him. Every single case touched him, just as it did to the others, but he never let it go deeper. It was a simple mechanism of self-protection, a wall to defend him against everything that could hurt him in any way.

But now he realized that his wall was beginning to crack, and the fine lines in the solid stones were getting deeper. It wasn't the beating in the alley that had torn it down – it was the desperate cry of a woman who'd just lost her son.

Why did everybody always have to lose the loved ones, while the people you hated remained a part of your life forever? He witnessed it everyday, parents mourning for their children, men and women saying goodbye to their lovers, people having their world crashing around them just by the words of some stranger in uniform.

And now he had taken a life away, and lost some part of himself in the very instant.

Which part it was he couldn't tell, but it hurt.

And no pain relievers in the world could ease it.

* * *

Nick was driving fast, too fast as he eventually realized.

He didn't care.

He didn't know what it was that made him disrespect all speed limitations, there was no need to hurry. Greg was okay, still badly shaken though, but nevertheless not in mortal peril which would normally have been the only legitimation for his speed.

Maybe it was only this feeling of guilt, mixed with the strange fear of being to late, that forced him to push the pedal down.

He wasn't too late.

He had been too late.

He hadn't even known he should have been there.

And perhaps this was his biggest problem of all. Greg was like a little brother to him, and as the older one it was his duty to look after him. The very moment he thought this, he told himself that it was riddiculous. Greg wasn't a kid anymore, he was a grown-up man who had done what he had thought was best. And yet Nick felt like he had failed.

It was the "what if's?" that haunted him ever since he got the the message about Greg being in hospital, they were the demons waiting for him behind every corner of the lab, smirking at him at the crime scene, forcing him to punch the guy although reason forbid it.

Actually Nick had never thought he could feel even worse than he had 2 years ago, but now something was different. Of course he had thought about the "what if's?" before, what if they hadn't found him in time, what if he'd pulled the trigger a second earlier, what if they had come too late – but now it was about a friend and he was the one to blame.

He kept recalling that there was absolutely nothing he or any other of the team could have done, but what might did words have when fighting the worst pain of human beings. Battling the invincible guilt? Words were nothing, he hadn't realized that until now.

Suddenly he knew how Grissom felt, and he finally knew that it didn't matter that he had told him not to feel guilty. It hadn't changed anything, because no one could help you in this battle, it was every man for himself.

Nick just didn't know how to get out of this alive.

* * *

Sara was clutching the cup of coffee as if it was the only rope that prevented her from falling into the black, icy abyss. And maybe it was something like that, she didn't know it.

What did she know at all?

Where had she gone wrong, what had she done so that he didn't want her near him anymore?

"Damn it, Greg", she muttered and choked hard to hold back the tears.

How often had he been there for her, how many times had they laughed together, smiling at each other? Had all this meant nothing to him?

She shook her head, not caring about how stupid she had to look to the other people in the canteen.

It had _not_ meant nothing to him, and she knew it, even though she might have forgotten it over the past hours. But if he cared for her like she did for him, then why had he sent her away? She didn't want to ask questions, she didn't want him to talk about it, she only wanted to be there for him. Why did he reject her like this?

The coffee had gone cold, but she didn't care. Actually, she thought, she didn't care about anything than Greg, and he didn't care about anything at all.

The tears began to fall with this thought, and she knew she had done him wrong, but who else should she blame? There was nothing left she could accuse herself of, it was all said and thought and cried.

* * *

Softly she knocked on his door, and it took a while until she heard his voice.

"Come in!"

Slowly Catherine entered Grissom's office, intuitively scanning the room, but not noticing anything odd. What had she expected? She didn't know, but she was still worried since Nick had told her to have a look at her oldest friend.

"Hey Gil", she said and he smiled vaguely.

"Hey Cath."

"You're okay?", the woman asked and fetched a chair. She sat down and supported herself on the desk.

"Sure", was the simple answer, but Cath could filter out the hidden emotions, and it didn't even surprise her. She had known him for much too long, she could tell when he was okay and when he wasn't. She saw the dark circles around his eyes and the exhausted expression on his face, and that was all she needed.

"When was the last time you slept, Gil?", she asked kindly and carefully.

"Does it matter?", he replied shortly. "Well, listen Cath", he added quickly when she was just about to say something. "Don't worry about me, I'm fine. But I couldn't rest until we got those kids. It was my duty to finish this first."

Catherine didn't even try to deny this, he was right. None of them had really gotten some rest during the last days, but at least she had been home for a few hours. She sighed at the thought of finding her daughter sleeping when she had come home, it had been a strange feeling, a mix of deep love and loneliness. She would lie if she said that the events hadn't affected her, and she had needed someone, not to talk to but just to be there. Had her returning to work in fact been a flight, a search for refuge?

"I understand you, Gil", she nodded.

Without asking, he handed her a cup of tea.

"I'm afraid it's cold, but better than nothing, isn't it?"

"I guess better than nothing is more than we could ask for sometimes…"

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, sipping their tea and getting lost in their own thoughts.

"Have you ever thought that you had failed?", Grissom suddenly asked.

Cath looked up and hesitated. She wasn't good at showing her feelings, but this was Gil, her friend, and she knew she could trust in him.

"Yes", she admitted. "I've thought that more than once. Maybe it's normal when you raise a child, I don't know, but… Do you remember when Lindsey tried to hitch-hike? In this moment I doubted myself and I asked myself what I had done wrong. The thought crossed my mind that something terrible could have happened, and it scared me to realize that I couldn't have done anything to prevent it. What if she had been picked up just a minute earlier, joining someone she didn't know, and then…" She shook her head. "I don't even want to imagine it."

"But she was fine, and you always did your best for her."

"Did I really?", the woman asked. "Sometimes I'm not so sure about it. I'm a CSI, but at first place I'm a mother, and maybe I don't do good enough at this."

"You're doing a great job, Cath", Grissom persisted.

"So do you."

Grissom sighed and stirred his tea.

"If I really do, then why did this happen? I know Greg, and I should have known that…"

"You couldn't have known", Catherine interrupted him softly. "Bad things happen, and we can't tell it before it's too late. That's just life, Gil. And life isn't about what happens to you. It's about how you handle what happens."

He took a deep breath and stood up. To her surprise, he hugged Catherine, resting in this embrace for a moment.

"Thank you."

Then he let go of her and went towards the door. Catherine remained on her seat, looking rather stunned and confused.

"Erm… where are you going?"

The older man smiled at her.

"I'll do what you told me to: get some sleep."

And with these words he left the office. Cath couldn't help it. She started to laugh, and she didn't even care about what the others might be thinking.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**A new part, finally, I know it's short but the next one will be up soon!**

* * *

Nick rushed through the entrance door and entered the hospital. He didn't like such places, he had seen them too often, and most of the memories were of pain, either physical or psychological. He was always glad when he could finally get out of it again, but now it was a different situation. It wasn't about him this time, it was about a friend.

He took a deep breath and went to the information desk. A young woman looked up at him with a smile.

"Can I help you, Sir?"

"I want to visit Greg Sanders, he was brought here today."

She checked some files on the computer and nodded.

"The brave guy they beat up? Are you a relative?"

"A friend." Greg was more than just a co-worker, somehow he wanted to make that plain.

"I see. Second floor, room 472."

"Thanks ma'am", Nick replied shortly and turned round. He scanned the hall for the elevator, when his eyes suddenly fell onto a familiar face.

"Sara?"

Immediately he was at her side, and her fingers let go of the empty coffee mug that was in front of her.

"Hey Nick", she greeted him with a weak and apparently fake smile. "You've seen Greg?"

"Not yet", the young investigator said. "I was just on my way when I saw you."

She turned her face away and seemed very interested in the offered drinks at the cafeteria. Her eyes were red, Nick noticed, and he knew she had cried not so long ago.

"Are you alright?", he inquired cautiously.

"What? Yes, of course I am. I'm fine, really."

Nick sighed.

"Don't lie to me, honey. I know you're not alright."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because I want to know the reason why, so that I can give the one who made you cry a good kick in the ass!", he joked.

Sara chuckled a little.

"I don't think that'll shock him anymore."

Nick gave her a quizzical look.

"So you've talked to Greg, haven't you? How is he?" And how did he make you cry?, he would have liked to add, but he thought this wouldn't be the best idea.

"Yes, I talked to him." She hesitated and clutched the mug again. "Until he told me to go."

"He did what?"

"He told… no, he asked me to go. So I left." She felt her lip beginning to tremble again, and she choked hard to suppress the tears that began to dwell in her eyes. She wouldn't cry. Not again.

"Hey", Nick muttered softly. "You can tell me. Only if you want to, of course", he added quickly.

It was only then that Sara slowly began to talk.


End file.
